


Lightning Crashes

by melyme



Category: Highlander: The Series, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Highlander Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), BakuTodo, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Highlander Immortals, Highlander References, Hook-Up, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Quirkless Bakugou Katsuki, Quirkless Todoroki Shouto, todobaku
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26657011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melyme/pseuds/melyme
Summary: Hours turning into days, into months; years, contemplating each detail, memorizing each crack as it got bigger, making frivolous contests about it; engraving all of their names throughout time in each stone of L'Eglise St Trophime, Holy Ground, safe ground. The architectural eclecticism infusing a long-lost rush in his veins, what was surrounding them was not only aesthetics, but history they had lived separately and now together. Their history.
Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki & Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki/Todoroki Shouto
Kudos: 5





	Lightning Crashes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dogchasingcars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogchasingcars/gifts).



> Happy Belated Bday my sweet Dogchasingcars!!! I am sorry your birthday gift has taken a bit of time, but of course I had to plan something really special for someone as special and amazing as you. You are without a doubt one of the most wonderful people I've been blessed to meet, and I hope this tiny present brings you a little bit of joy. Enjoy, Mon! TE QUIERO UN MONTÓN!!! <3
> 
> NOTES  
> The Game: human beings born with the power of “the Quickening” become immortal if they suffer a premature death by non-natural means (such as violence). After their first death, they are ageless and invulnerable to death unless their head is removed or destroyed. The Game is the hunting of one another to get the quickening.
> 
> The Quickening: process of when an immortal’s energy is released after death and absorbed by the immortal who killed him.
> 
> The Buzz: immortals are able to feel each other’s presence from a reasonable distance.
> 
> The Gathering and the prize: when only a few are left, immortals will feel a pull towards a far away land, to fight for the prize. The last one will have the power of all immortals who ever lived.
> 
> Kukri: type of machete from the Indian subcontinent.
> 
> Doloire: type of axe, with a wooden shaft (of about 5 feet) and a head similar to an isosceles triangle.
> 
> 5/4 time signature: it determines the rhythm of the backbone for a piece. It means there are 5 beats to a measure. It’s uncommon. Nearly every pop/rock/present day song is 4/4.
> 
> 1950s SLANG  
> Candy ass: wimp.
> 
> Cut the gas: shut up, be quiet.
> 
> Frosted: angry.
> 
> Nifty: cool, great.
> 
> Party pooper: no fun at all.
> 
> Peepers: glasses.

  
_Here we are, born to be kings_

_We’re the princes of the universe_

_Here we belong, fighting to survive_

_In a world with the darkest powers_

_And here we, we’re the princes of the universe_

_Here we belong, fighting for survival_

_We’ve come to be the rulers of you all_

**Queen**

Tch. “Your timing is ridiculously stupid. Let me finish this, because I am about to make musical history, and then I will indulge you in taking your miserable head off.”

Life is like plants. Much like gardeners, we spent every waking moment attempting to make our lives as colorful, vibrant, keeping always in mind to extend it to its fullest. A sense of pity, disappointment, overcomes us when after investing so long in it, suddenly one might have come to its demise. However, as Piet Oudolf said “I love plants that are dead.”

There is a certain enchantment in mortality. Something that leads you throughout your existence to find a core of beliefs, something that defines you, something that makes you value every single decision, that makes you want to love dearly; that makes you hate, too. Something that makes you feel. Because if you were immortal, what would be the point of feeling so intensely? Imagine finding _the one,_ and watch that person wither away before you, knowing no matter how hard or what you try, you will outlast your loved one, and ultimately will lose it. Imagine going through this countless times, one century after another.

Imagine reliving those arguments, that now are that thing that you miss the most, and finally realizing you have the perfect comeback to someone who’s been dead for 500 years.

*****

It puzzles him if there was ever a need for them to move here. They have been able to achieve staying out of _The Game_ for the past several decades. No thought of his had been devoted to _The Gathering._ The last quarter of the century living in Arles were ineffable, they were close to invisible; almost like regular people. Despite its renown for Van Gogh and its paintings, the city itself happened to be a place where he could walk as he pleased to Museon Arlaten, as many occasions he wanted, without much of tribulation in mind. 

Sitting in those benches in La Place de la Republique, his senses being serenaded by the murmurs of the wind ricocheting all around them; his right hand softly grazing that grumpy gremlin’s left one, unhurriedly intertwining fingers; ecstasy sparking all over his body with the rub of their shoulders, the annoying wide grin he fancies to give him that howls: _you are mine_.

Hours turning into days, into months; years, contemplating each detail, memorizing each crack as it got bigger, making frivolous contests about it; engraving all of their names throughout time in each stone of L'Eglise St Trophime, _Holy Ground,_ _safe ground_. The architectural eclecticism infusing a long-lost rush in his veins, what was surrounding them was not only aesthetics, but history they had lived separately and now together. Their history. Katsuki’s ruby eyes glimmering, as luminous as Antares on the clearest summer night, when he flaunted and bragged with every little detail on how he was pivotal in the reconstruction of that obelisc, once a majestic scarlet granite of roman doing, back in 1676.

The risk in Arles was always minimum. Population: close to nobody. People come and go. No one really stays long. That was his ideal life. Peaceful. And the very reason why this move to Paris was unsettling. You are never really out of _The Game_ . Unfortunately for him, he was unable to resist whenever Bakugou _suggested_ something; eyes laid only on his, using his index finger to caress under his chin, tracing back and forth, getting so close to him that he could taste his breath, and using that husky voice that he hated so much. Katsuki always got away with everything with that. _Damned Katsuki!_

*****

**_Lodz 1958_ **

“What was that?”

“That, my friend, was a 5/4.”

“In jazz?”

“ _Nifty_ , ah? Just imagine the possibilities.. ” Katsuki added, continuously twirling one of the drumsticks in his hand, displaying the proudest grin. “Damn, this was a blast and I’d love to continue but I have a prior engagement. Nice to meet you, Mr. Brubeck. I will be right back.”

“It was my pleasure, Kacchan.” the man with the glasses and impeccable black suit and tie replied, shaking his hand. “Sure, take your time. We are going to be here all night.”

Bakugou approaches the bar; nonchalantly and carefully takes off his tawny fedora hat, unveiling a well styled pompadour in his ash blonde hair. He whistles the bartender. With a wink and playful smirk, takes his chestnut long coat in his hands from the man across the bar, leaving both the hat and drumsticks on the counter. _Damn, Party Pooper!_ Glances over his shoulder, at the end of the hall, to the tall norse looking man who interrupted his drink about 30 minutes before, making a signal towards the alley door.

Opening the door, he clicks his tongue one more time in utter annoyance. _So cold, damned candy ass! Why now?_ Of course he had not come anticipating this, but the reality is this could happen even when trying to go to buy milk so it shouldn’t surprise him the least bit. He just really was hoping to have a good night playing with these very good musicians. Pestered, gets the sheath out of the coat, throws the coat to the curb next to him, and ceremoniously takes the sword out, placing the black and golden sheath out of the way.

“I am Herleif, from…”

“I don’t give a damn! And… whatthefuckisthat?” Bakugou interrupts loudly, clearly beyond annoyed.

“Your head shall be taken with my clan’s axe. Leviathan will give honor to your dea- ”

“Damn, you got me real _frosted_ now!” he snarled, gripping even tighter the white dragon carved handle on his sword over his head, taking an offensive stance “ _Cut the gas_ , jerk and let’s dance!”

The man launches forward swinging the lengthy axe, at least 35 inches long, towards Bakugou’s neckline, encountering his sword repelling the thrust away; he takes advantage to kick him in the head. He uses the momentum to push forth, ruthless grimace on, swinging his sword at his opponent's head, but his strike is also countered; blades meet and sparks fly — As the other guy punches him hard in the face; he places one knee on the ground and sharply gets up.

Bakugou steps back somewhat, gripping the blade differently, furiously charging again, as he tastes a little bit of blood in the inner part of his lip, swinging back to the upper body, met by the axe; the standstill presents him the opening, and he delivers a fast kick to the norse man's head, near his ear, causing him to stumble several steps and retreat a few meters before pulling out a _Kukri_ from his back. Facing two blades now, Bakugou laughs hysterically, unable to contain his wide grin— 

“Come and get _me_ , big boy.”

*****

Bakugou opens his eyes immediately; the intense fog begins to lift off. He is on his knees in the alley grasping his sword with both of his hands, using it to try to keep himself from collapsing altogether. His mouth hurts, his muscles are sore, he has a couple of deep cuts in his torso that went through the orange, blue and white striped V neck shirt he is wearing; blood drenching it. But he is fine, they will heal shortly. This is the part he loathes from _The Quickening_ , though. Receiving all that live force in such wicked manner, literal waves of lightning and electric charges shocking your body just to heal your wounds, to regenerate your organs. Whoever thought of this as a prize for winning a battle, has a very perverted sense of humour.

His train of thought is interrupted, not that coherence was at its finest at the moment. He feels _the buzz_ again. _Is this a joke?_ His senses ignite in full alert, yet he is still too weak for another battle right away. The door that leads to the alley opens; a man wearing cobalt blue pants and shirt, pink tie and matching suspenders is standing at the door. He doesn’t make a sound to what he faces before stepping out; behind his eyeglasses, an inscrutable expression while holding a katana.

“Listen, pretty half and half, you know the rules. One on one. How about 5 minutes?” Bakugou scowled, gasping, barely able to keep his eyes open but still trying to stand up.

“Tell that to them.”

Bakugou realized the buzz he had felt was not only coming from him; others were drawing near from the alley. Others who, by their looks, might be friends with the one who he had just decapitated and surely had an absolute disregard for the rules.

The man with the big round glasses, eyes partially covered by his mane, silky hair split in the middle, half snowlike and half crimson, started walking assertively closer and closer to him. “Are you up for one more? This is what they do”, as he extended his hand, offering it to Bakugou to help him stand up. “Technically I’ve taken myself out of _the game_ , but let me help you.”

He hesitates on taking the hand. Accepting help. Ok, he is hurt and not fully recovered yet but he doesn’t need anybody. He has not _needed_ anyone, ever. Not in 800 years. And who is this man anyway? _Taking himself out of the game?_ No one can get out of the game. No one in their right mind would try to take themselves out of the game, it’s the only way to survive. _In the end, there can only be one_ . If you take yourself out of the game you will not be strong enough when the time comes. _The Gathering._ There must obviously be something very wrong with him. Why would he offer help to a stranger, another immortal? Why would he need help from someone like him? Why would he need anything from someone like him?

Mistrusts and apprehensions tell him otherwise, yet he accepts the hand. 

In the midst of the brawl Bakugou strives to focus his entire restoring energy and stamina on the challenge in front of him, however his sight gets seduced at times on his temporary ally; he is taken aback. He has never seen anyone move like that. The way his hair waltzes as he clashes. This man uses a katana, but it is evident he has an outstanding experience in different methods of confrontation and weapons because of the easiness and grace of his motions to elude his adversary; it is the closest he had ever been to a ballet dancer. 

He continued to charge, kick, punch, even headbutt; minutes of ongoing clanging of swords, giving all he had left. _A quickening_. The distraction serving as another ally, himself also promptly taking the head.

After a second _quickening_ Bakugou barely can move a muscle. Breathing is hard. It's going to take a while but he really needs to make himself scarce as soon as possible. He clicks his tongue, cursing himself and his misfortune. His plans to keep playing jazz with the renowned visiting musicians from overseas, who were only going to be in Lodz for that night, completely ruined. He is surrounded by many pieces of shattered glass, from some nearby windows; this one was a sizable one.

“My name is Todoroki”, the winsome half and half offers his hand a second time. This time he takes it at once. 

*****

“Aren’t you happy I was there?”

“Shut up! I would’ve not needed you anyway” Bakugou frowns, kicking the beige duvet covers to the floor.

“Wha- Damn you, it’s freezing!” Todoroki promptly leans over trying to pick it up.

“How did you call me? Say it again pretty half and half…” Katsuki growls, pulling him from the arm, getting on top of him in the bed. Both of their cocks rubbing each other through their underwear; his erection growing to the friction; lewdness magnified by the incalescence of their mixed breaths, as only inches are separating their faces. The sight of those mesmerizing mismatching eyes bursting his desires again, just like last night. 

He can’t help to tenderly graze with his finger his left cheek, where the burn scar is, just moving the locks away to gaze at the radiant turquoise gem hiding behind. Todoroki flinches to the touch. _Fascinating._ Mindfully, his lips get closer to Todoroki’s right ear; he brushes some of his white locks behind it. “Do you want to leave?”

Todoroki shakes his head indicating a negative and takes him from the nape of the neck, pulling him to kiss him fiercely, a line appearing between his brows. It is ravenous, teeth clashing and he bites Katsuki’s upper lip hard, drawing a drop of blood. He breaks the kiss for a few inches. “You owe me a pair of glasses. I am not leaving yet” he purred, attempting to maintain a deadpan expression; the corners of his mouth betraying him, slightly quirking up.

Bakugou snickers. There is more to Todoroki than what he conveys in that obtuse, wary, unfazed persona he works so hard on displaying. All the talk about staying out of _the game_ and avoiding connections with immortals, as the best method to survive. He knows it. He is so close, he can attest the heartbeats increasing exponentially, the flush creeping up his face, his lower lip almost imperceptibly quivering. Almost. 

He can still hear the intense moans from him, echoing in that small, cramped room, when he slowly took that crisp shirt with his mouth last night, as he bit his shoulder from behind; sniffling that beautiful, sweaty, long hair. The unforeseen comforting scent from his wet skin against his own as he filled him completely. Grazing the tip of his nose in Todoroki’s back as he changed the pace of thrusts. His loud cries when reaching climax, as he clasped to the alabaster cotton sheets with his dear life, and what that triggered on him too. A different type of lightning jolting all his nervous ending; one he wouldn’t mind reliving. 

He licks his own lip, before moving his hands along Todoroki’s lean and muscular torso; the allure is colossal. He kisses and nibbles all over the chest; whimpers unraveled. He nibbles harder. Todoroki arches his back, abruptly moving his head to his side, letting a loud moan escape. Bakugou glances up, and before his eyes, his bicolor strands mingling, for moments seeming a chimerical kaleidoscope, as he is moving; rapid shallow breathing and panting while the meticulously gnawing proceeds...“Alright, _peepers._ Stay until you feel you have received enough compensation then” he softly taunts, using the tip of his tongue to seek satiating his thirst for that syrupy savor that had been ignited hours before, tracing swirls on top of his white tight briefs; rapture with the twitching movements reacting to his tongue, and the taste of precum through the fabric.

A pillow plunges into the carpeted floor; it rendezvous with a long battle axe, a _Kukri_ , a _Doloire_ , a sword, a dagger and a Katana on its obsidian sheath. A handgun is hidden under the bed.

A hoarse whisper. “Kiss me.”

_I can do that. I can do a lot more than that._

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> After Dave Brubeck's Quartet very famous tour to Europe and Asia, where they were exposed to rhytmic experiments, was borned one their most famous pieces: Take Five. With a revolutionary 5/4 beat. The album that included Take Five, was the first jazz album to sell more than 1 million copies. Dave Brubeck is considered one of the foremost exponents of cool jazz.
> 
> Here is a little pinterest board I created for this chapter:  
> [Lightning Crashes](https://www.pinterest.com/edialtuzarra/lightning-crashes-chap1/)


End file.
